Picture
by Anonymous033
Summary: Tony gives Ziva a poster to put up on her wall. Birthday fic for Tara.


**Summary: Tony gives Ziva a poster to put up on her wall.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, and I don't own Lara Croft. I wanna own NCIS. Don't particularly care if I own Lara Croft. :(**

**Spoilers: None specific; vague reference to Aliyah.**

**Dedication: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TARA! This is for you :D**

**Enjoy, please review!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Picture<strong>

"What is this?" Ziva asks suspiciously as she unrolls the poster. "Lara Croft?"

"Yeah, she's the Tomb Raider." At Ziva's expressionless look, Tony sighs and elaborates. "She's a video game character, which McGee would totally dig. But she's been made into a movie character before, which I totally dig."

"I know who she is."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Because I don't understand why you are giving me her." Ziva rolls the poster back up and furrows her brows at Tony.

"Well your walls look a little blank, they need some…sprucing up." He looks around her apartment and points at a spot on her living room wall. "How 'bout there? Right above your shelf of intellectual-looking books."

"Tony, don't you think Croft is a little…teenage boy?"

He gives her an amused look. "She's a grown woman, in case you can't tell."

"You know what I mean."

"Ahhh, c'mon. She's Lara Coft! It's cool to have her in your home. She's not like the Victoria's Secret models boys have in their bedrooms or something."

"I am not sure I agree."

"Okay." He sighs and takes back the poster. "I just thought you'd appreciate having a poster of her. She's a lot like you, you know."

Ziva smiles and pats his arm comfortingly, and then steers him towards her couch. "It is just that…I am not the type to put posters up on my walls," she explains as they sit down.

"If I got you a framed painting, would you put it up?" He eyes her hopefully.

"Would it be of Lara Croft?"

"Yes." She tilts her head. "No."

"Then I might."

"What do you want? Bunnies? Rainbows? A cat dressed in a tutu sniffing a bunch of pink flowers?"

She snorts. "If you can find that painting, I will put it up."

"Will you?" His eyes twinkle mischievously. "I wouldn't say something I might regret later."

"It's a cat in a tutu! Who would not like that?"

"You have strange tastes," he confirms, and she laughs. "You don't do Lara Croft, but you do cats in tutus? What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing! At least the cat does not make me look like a teenage boy."

"Ziva, acne and greasy hair couldn't make you look like a teenage boy."

"I do not know whether I should consider that a compliment."

"Depends on whether you want to look like a teenage boy. So what colour should this tutu be?"

"Are you having a picture _made_ for me?" she asks in exasperation.

"I have a painter friend…a buddy from college."

"Why?"

"Ugh. Well, he was best friends with this girl I wan-"

"_Tony. _I mean, why do you want to have this picture made for me?"

"I told you, your walls look a little blank."

"Well, it is not like you are living here."

"I come around a lot."

"Still."

"Alright." He shifts uncomfortably. "It's just…every time I come over, there's something screaming at me about how impersonal your apartment is. I know you picked all your furniture and stuff but it's still so…empty. There're no clothes scattered around the floor. Maybe you're neat, but I mean, even your books are arranged alphabetically, by height, and they're all in a straight line. It's like you haven't touched them since you put them there. And I know you're not _that _neat 'cause your desk at work is as messy as everyone else's. There's just nothing here to show that this isn't an apartment right out of a catalogue." He gazes at her quietly. "So…if you want a cat, I can give you a cat. It's something out of the ordinary."

"Does it bother you…that my apartment is so impersonal?"

"I just want you to have something to smile over when you come home at the end of the day, Ziva."

"How do you know the tidiness does not make me smile?"

"If it did, you wouldn't smile at work. Hey!" he protests as she smacks him on the arm. "It's true! I'm not saying you're messy, you're-"

"You are digging a hole for yourself, Tony."

"Okay. Fine, I'll stop. But you must promise to take that cat."

She smiles, and squeezes his hand gently. "Tony, do you know why my apartment is so impersonal?"

"Why?"

"Because I move. A lot. I have moved three times since I first came to NCIS. And…not always of my own choice." She gives him a short nod. "And when that happens, I can't always bring what I love with me. So I don't keep the things I love here."

"Where do you keep them?"

"At work. But you won't find them by going through my desk, so do not try. And also…neatness makes evidence-collecting easy. If evidence should need to be collected."

He stares at her for a few seconds and then clears his throat. "Yeah, but it's kinda boring coming home to four walls and nothing to tidy up."

She shrugs. "I have my books. They are easily replaceable. I have my TV. That is easily replaceable too. And…some nights I have you."

"Am I easily replaceable?"

"No. But…I do not have to pack you into a box when I need to move. So I do not mind having you over."

"Does that mean what I think you're trying to mean, Miss David?" he asks with increasing interest. "That I'm the one who keeps your boredom at bay in your House of Four White Walls?"

"I just put you in the same category as my TV and books, Tony."

"Yeah, but they're replaceable, and I'm not."

"Human beings are not replaceable. Don't flatter yourself. You're not replaceable only because you're human."

He shoots her a hurt look, and she laughs. "Okay," she concedes softly. "Maybe…also because I'm a little attached to you."

He grins. "How attached, on a scale of one to ten?"

She raises a shoulder. "A five?"

"That's not a lot," he says disappointedly.

"It's more attached than I am to the books and the TV."

"Well, I guess I'll have to settle for that," he grumbles. "But I don't think you'll be moving again. This is your home now."

"Why do you say so?"

"'Cause it suits you. Even with the white walls. This is the place you belong in."

"Hmm."

"So…" He ruminates as he stares down at the poster in his hand. "Do you still want that cat?"

She follows his gaze. "No," she says quietly as she reaches over to pull the poster out of his hand. "I will take the poster."

He breathes a sigh of relief. "Good. Because I was wondering where I'd find a painter."

"What about your college buddy?"

"Doesn't exist. I made him up."

"Why?"

He rubs his hands together nervously. "'Cause you needed a picture."

Her face softens. "Tony, you do not need to look for a painting just for me."

He makes an indistinguishable noise and looks around her apartment again. "So where are you going to put this poster?"

"I think I may have to keep it somewhere safe."

"Where no one will see it?" he questions perceptively.

"Yes." She fingers the edge of the poster. "That and, I do not want to lose it. It is a gift from you."

He shoots her an apologetic smile. "For the record, I really thought you would've liked it."

She blinks at him, and then slowly leans over and kisses him on the cheek. "I _do_ like it, Tony," she whispers against his ear. "_Thank you._"

"You're welcome."

She smiles and draws back. "So what movie are we watching tonight?"

"You're not gonna believe this." He pauses for dramatic effect and then whips out a DVD. "Lara Croft: Tomb Raider."

She huffs at him. "You and your tomb raiders."

"There's only _one _Tomb Raider, Ziva, and she really reminds me of you. Don't diss her till you've met her."

"Fine." She settles against the couch and crosses her arms. "Put the DVD in, then."

Gratified, he races over to the DVD player and pops the disc in. Then he comes back to the couch, settling down beside her and swinging an arm over her shoulder. She raises her eyebrows at him.

"What? It's comfortable."

Rolling her eyes, she turns back to face the television screen. "Don't get too used to it."


End file.
